


Blow Us All Away

by AbsinthexMind



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Character Death, Death, F/M, Forgiveness, Grief/Mourning, Hamilton References, Mother-Son Relationship, Mourning, Moving On, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Death in the Family, Reader-Insert, Song Lyrics, Songfic, implied magic, lyrics, shield agent, super power child?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-09-23 23:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9685907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsinthexMind/pseuds/AbsinthexMind
Summary: "We'll give the world to you and you'll blow us all away."Your child with none other than Captain America was bound to outshine the morning sun and blow everyone away.





	1. Did You Know?

He was your sunbeam, the warmth of your life; ashamed to even verbally admit that you loved your son more than Steve. But your husband understood. Steve adored Christian. He was his pride and joy. Ever since the day he was born Christian was spoiled with overflowing love and affection. Even Tony, someone who had vehemently insisted that children had no place in his tower, was the one now volunteering to babysit and taking him down to his lab so Christian could keep him company.

You remember how tenderly Steve held his newborn son in his gigantic arms that the infant seemed to disappear; treating him like he was made of delicate eggshells. His blue eyes were rimmed with red warning signals of oncoming tears. He smiled down at the scrunched up little face that was now peacefully sleeping after crying up a storm. Holding him close to his chest so his son could listen to the soothing beat of his heart. It was something Steve had continued to do until Christian grew to the age that he didn’t want to be affectionate with his parents.

“At least try to tolerate it.” You told him one evening.

His face screwed up into a disgusted frown.d “No way! It’s totally lame.”

Again you tried to reason with your 12 year old son. “Your father doesn’t get to see you that often.”

“That’s not my fault.” Christian shrugs in an uncaring manner that has you pulling viciously at his ear. He yelps in discomfort but knows better than to try and pull away from you. Just like his father he knew you used to be a field agent of SHIELD. You had been trained to kill and could be even more terrifying than Steve. Who was he kidding- you were more terrifying than Steve.

“You listen good. Your father puts his life on the line to save the world. The least you can do when he comes home is give him a damn hug.” Even if he was your beloved sunbeam you wouldn’t tolerate him acting like a snot toward the man who helped give him life and who loved him so dearly. You understood that he was fast becoming a teenager, but you’d be damned if you let him become a moody teen “Do you understand?”

There’s a noticeable bob in his adam’s apple before he mumbles out a “Yes mom.”

And that was that.

  
  


Christian soon found that your world no longer revolved solely on him. You gave birth to two more children. At the age of 17, Christian was a big brother to 9 year old Sarah and 4 year old Bucky. You loved your children all equally but took most pride in your handsome first born. When he was younger his hair had been a brilliant shade of blonde that accompanied your nickname for him quite nicely. As he grew the hue of his locks darkened until it dirtied those once precious golden tresses. He wasn’t one for school work which often led the two of you to butt heads as Steve waited it out. If things got too out of control he was the peacemaker, either him or your daughter Sarah would be the one to calm the storm.

Your son didn’t turn out to be quite the indestructible super soldier that Steve was; not to say he wasn’t strong, he could run for miles on end without wearing out and could lift things no normal human could. Christian had other great qualities that would make him an excellent agent. Eye sight was incredible that would make him a magnificent marksman like Clint. He was also the most flexible person you’d ever seen thanks to Natasha’s training. No one could deny that he took after you though, which your son considered even better than being a super soldier.

He was determined to follow in both of your footsteps in becoming a SHIELD agent or better yet an Avenger. You’d try to sway him; an agent, sure, but being an Avenger was another thing.

“Peter is my age!” Christian would argue. “Even dad says how amazing Peter is for being just 17.”

Hands on your hips you looked up at your son who now towered over you. “He’s not our son though. You can become a SHIELD agent, train until you graduate, but you’re not going to be an Avenger.”

“Why not?!”

“Because I don’t want to lose you!”

“Who says I’m going to die? Do you have so little faith in me?!”

You shake your head. “That’s not it Christian! You won’t be an Avenger and that’s final!”

Furious Christian curls his fingers into a tight fist. “You can’t tell me what to do! Once I’m 18 I’ll be an adult and make my own decisions! You can’t tell me what to do with my life then!”

You really didn’t want to be petty but the words slipped out. “I’ll tell Fury not to let you in.”

The utter hate in his eyes stabbed at you. You never wanted him to look at you like that, but you knew the risks he’d be in. You’d lost many friends in your line of work. Maybe you were being unreasonable, but you didn’t have to be reasonable when you’re a mom.

Without any more words to exchange, Christian stomps to the elevator and punches the button. As soon as the doors slide open he vanishes.

Sighing you run a hand through your (h/c) hair and slump on a stool at the bar.

“Yikes. I was almost afraid to come out. Thought the two of you would blow a hole in the building. Like I need more damage to this place.” Tony reveals himself from the hall.

“Do you think I’m being overprotective? I’m doing the right thing, right?”

“Don’t ask me, I’m not one to give parenting advice.”

“I don’t know. You seem like a pretty good father figure to Peter. He looks up to you.”

Tony shrugs, strutting behind the bar and already making a drink for the two of you. “He’s easy to please. Plus he doesn’t ask for much.”

He hands you a glass. Your fingers run along the rim absentmindedly. He would make a great addition, you knew that, but the anxieties that would entail would be too much for you to bare. You had given up that part of your life and chose to commit yourself to your kids.

“I just. . . Don’t want him to die.”

“You think he’s not tough enough?”

“No. That’s not it.” You take a sip, almost wincing at how bitter it is. “You know how it is Tony. The world is unpredictable. You nearly died yourself on several occasions. I’ve almost lost Steve. What if Christian is not so lucky? I. . . I couldn’t. . .”

Tony puts a hand over your trembling one and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “The truth is (y/n), Christian could die at any moment. Even if he lives a quiet, simple life. Why not let him put his skills to good use and save lives. Dying while saving someone is the best way to go. That is if he does die. But I don’t think that’ll happen. He’s built like a tank like Steve. Plus he’s got your abilities. Christian has been taught well. Plus if he gets too deep into trouble there’s the others who will help him out. We’re a team, (y/n). You know that better than anyone.”

You eventually relented.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Being an Avenger meant that Christian would make plenty of enemies just by association. He was ready for that prospect. What he wasn’t prepared for was a one-on-one fight. He had to keep it a secret or else his parents and the others were bound to intervene. As he learned, there was more to fighting than simply throwing punches. One needed a plan. Christian went to his dad for advice but omitted certain information that would give himself away.

“Face your opponent without a trace of fear. They’ll easily spot it and take advantage of it.” Steve sits Christian down. “Now when the end comes where either you or your opponent must lose, you must do everything in your power not to kill him.”

“What?” Christian gapes at the man in front of him. “But what if he doesn’t stop until one of us- I mean- until someone is dead? Surely if it’s in the name of self defense.”

But Steve shakes his head. “Do whatever you can to prevent any death. _To take someone’s life, that is something you can’t take._ No matter what this person has done, you can’t not kill them.”

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

He stays silent for quite some time. “Uncle Bruce is here. Have you said hi to him yet?”

And that was that.

Yet Steve didn’t know the repercussions his words would have.

  
  
  
  
  


Your got the call while you in the gym the tower provided. JARVIS had informed you that you needed to get to the medical wing immediately. Something had happened to Christian. You leapt right off the treadmill and took the stairs two at a time all the while trying to get information out of JARVIS. All JARVIS would tell you was that he was gravely wounded in a fight. The police had been there due to the noise it had made. Walls of buildings had been destroyed. They only found your son at the scene in a pool of his blood.

JARVIS opened the door that led into a small hospital cot that was there for when the team got back from assignments.

“(y/n)!” Steve turns to you, face pale and eyes dripping with tears.

_“Is he breathing, is he going to survive this?!”_ You peel toward your husband, frantic for answers. _“Who did this?! Did you know?!”_

There’s a cough from the hospital cot as your bleeding son struggles to sit up, a dark substance trailing from his mouth down to his chin. You push Steve aside.

_“Mom I’m so sorry for forgetting what you taught me.”_

Grabbing onto his hand you gently settle him back down. A watery smile makes your eyes blur, the image of your son distorting slightly. _“My son. . .”_

_“We played piano-”_

_“I taught you piano.”_ You nod, remembering how clumsy his little hands were when you first tried teaching him. Those cute little fingers were now that of a man’s and sticky with red ink. _“You would put your hands on mine. You changed the melody every time.”_

A pain filled laugh leaves his chest making him choke more. _“I would always change the line.”_

_“Shh, I know, I know.”_ You bit your bottom lip and held tightly to his hand, knuckles turning white. Blinking, the tears slipped down your face; Christian becoming clearer.

_“I would always change the line.”_

_“I know, I know.”_ Inhaling sharply you tried to keep his eyes focused on you. You’d seen that look far too many times. The slipping of someone’s life. Christian looked at you with glassy eyes. _“Un-deux-trois-quatre-cinq-six-sept-huit-neuf.”_

There’s a ghost of a smile that flickers as his lips tremble when forming the words. _“Un-deux-trois-quatre-cinq-six-sept-huit-neuf.”_

_“Good.”_ You close your eyes and repeat the scale again. Only after tres, Christian has gone silent. Your eyes hastily open too look at him. His, however, are closed. You fight the sob that crawls up your throat but it could do nothing to stop the shaking of your body as you squeezed tightly onto his fingers. They were still warm. He couldn’t possibly be dead. Not your son. Not your Christian. _“Sept-huit-neuf. . .”_

Christian’s face doesn’t even twitch. It’s eerily still.

_“Sept-huit. . .”_ The room is silent except for the heavy breathing of people trying not to cry. You wait a heartbeat, waiting, praying that he’d open his eyes again.

“(y/n). . .”

You fell forward, on top of your son, and let out a strangled cry that escalated into a scream.


	2. Uptown

Everything had changed so abruptly. Life as you knew it went by in a blink of an eye. Christian’s life, to be more exact. You were completely numb, an absolute mess even as you tried to tend to the needs of your other two children. How could you possibly remain together like his death didn’t tear you apart completely. The days following Christian’s funeral were filled by sitting in the living room of Stark Tower- or the Avengers Tower, while Sarah and Bucky tried to occupy themselves as you vacantly stared out the windows that lined the room. If their presence grew too much you’d travel back into your room and draw the curtains. No one could get you to talk, let alone move an inch, except for the pleading of your kids and the duty you still had for them. They’d learned to leave you be. It was what you wanted. You were deteriorating. The sight caused pain to everyone who looked at you. Especially Steve. He was no better off than you were. He blamed himself for Christian dying. Once he had told you that it was him who had told your son to refrain from killing his enemy, in your grief you blamed him too. You’d lashed out, hit him and knocked him down to the ground. Natasha and Tony had to pull you away as you lashed out like a wild animal. There were bruises still healing on Steve’s face. He didn’t blame you. How could he even dare to console you after what he’d done. It was his fault you were like that. It was his fault Christian was dead.

  
  
  


_There are moments when the words don’t reach_

__

There is suffering too terrible to name

__

You hold your child as tight as you can

__

And push away the unimaginable

__

The moments when you’re in so deep

__

It feels easier to just swim down

__  
  
  


Sarah and Bucky were the reasons you even got out of bed. They’d lost someone too. You had to at least try to be there for them. It was so hard to even sit up nowadays. You hadn’t even looked Steve’s way for weeks now.

“You two need to get away for a while.” Natasha finally told Steve one day. Sam was leaning against the kitchen counter, solemnly nodding in agreement. Your collective mourning had gone on for two months now with no sign of letting up. Steve had tried to get back in the game, tried to take on assignments. If it weren’t for Sam and Natasha backing him up, Steve would’ve broken more than a rib from the last mission.

“Get away?”

“Being cooped up here isn’t helping either of you.” Shooting a look toward the elevator as a way of indicating his forlorn spouse. “She’s not getting better and it’s affecting Sarah and Bucky.”

He scowls at the mention of his other children. They had lost their big brother, their idol. It was hard for them too.

“Tony is more than willing to buy you guys a house outside of the city. New York City is far too loud and hectic for your family right now.” She goes on. “Steve, it’s hard on all of us seeing your family like this. Fresh air might do you guys some good.”

“You can’t let this continue. It’ll end up killing both of you.” Voice on the verge of pleading, Sam clasps one of Steve’s shoulders and looks him in the eyes.

Stiffly Steve nods his head and goes to the elevator.

  
  
  
*  
  
  


When Steve came to you with the proposition of moving your family all you could muster up for him was a small, faint, nod. You didn’t particularly care where you were but you knew it would be the best thing for Sarah and Bucky. You had to start being a mother again and not some ghost. You had two other children to think of. Gradually you got up from what had been your permanent place in bed and washed up.

  
  
  


The house Tony had been so kind to buy you was more than enough for a family of three. Overwhelmingly large. Your children seemed to love it though. Bucky looked up at you, baby fat still filled in his face as he asks you if they could get a dog. You didn’t have it in you to refuse him. Maybe with more occupants the place wouldn’t feel so lonely.

  
  
  


Steve sits on a bench in the backyard where a lush garden curled around the yard. He watched his son play with the family dog. Sarah sat off to the side, painting another bench identical to the one he sat on. With a numb mind he observed his daughter dip the brush gently in the can of paint; her other paints and palette off to the side waiting to be used. Slowly his gaze lifts to the window that belonged to the master bedroom. A lone figure overlooks the backyard then disappears. She’s getting better, but not to where she’s willing to talk to Steve. Not yet. He concentrates on his laced fingers. He could wait as long as it took.

  
  
  


_I spend hours in the garden_

__

I walk alone to the store

__

And it’s quiet uptown

__

I never liked the quiet before

__

I take the children to church on Sunday

__

A sign of the cross at the door

__

And I pray

__

That never used to happen before

__  
  
  
  
  


"You don't want any company?" Sarah asks her father when she finds him putting on his shoes and heading for the door. 

Steve grins and shakes his head. "No. You stay here. Keep your mom and brother company."

"Dad. . .?"

"Yes?"

Biting her lip she looks at her dad with large, doe, eyes that were almost brimming with tears making Steve's heart ache. "I know. . . I know losing Chris is tough. Things aren't ever going to be the same. Mom and you. . ." Her voice trembles into a whisper. "You need each other. We need each other."

He kneels down in front of her and holds her fiercely. "Things will be okay. It'll take some time. Thank you Sarah." He wouldn't tell her how he blamed himself for Chris' death. If only he hadn't pushed his mentality onto such a young boy. . . Christian might still be alive. "I'll be back in few minutes. Just going to take a little walk. We may need each other, but your mom needs her space once in a while. Best not to push her limit." With a light kiss to her forehead Steve stands back up and closes the door behind him. 

  


_If you see him in the street, walking by himself_

__

Talking to himself, have pity

__

" _Christian you would like it uptown, it's quiet uptown._ " Steve whispers to himself, closing his eyes due to the burning sensation that warned him of tears. _He is working through the unimaginable_

__

His hair has gone grey, he passes every day

__

They say he walks the length of the city

__  


" _You knock me out, I fall apart._ " Desperately biting on his lip like his daughter had moments before, Steve presses the heels of his palm against his eyes.

  


_Can you imagine?_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Once he gets back he finds you in the kitchen staring out the window into the garden where your kids were out playing once again. The dog barks in delight as your son throws the ball. You know he's behind you, but you can't bring yourself to turn around. Your muscles wouldn't cooperate. Every time you saw his face you saw Christian- rather what he could've grown up to look like.

"(y/n)."

Your lips tremble dangerously. You remember the utter grief and anger you'd felt toward him. How you'd attacked him like a feral animal. You didn't blame him now. He couldn't have foreseen any of this. Gathering up whatever courage was remaining inside you you, you put on a stoic facade and faced him. Nothing could fool him though. Steve had been with you for years and knew everything about you. All your faces. He had pointed out, what seemed like ages ago, that your eyes gave way to what you were really feeling. You could never have a poker face like Natasha.

Taking tentative steps toward you he gauges you for a reaction. Surprising you when he falls to his knees at your feet. You wring your hands in front of you. Uncertain of what was going to happen.

" _Look at where we are. Look at where we started. I know I don't deserve you. But hear me out, that would be enough._ " Steve is practically pleading with you with his head hanging low. He rests his clenched fists on his knees. " _If I could spare his life, if I could trade his life for mine, he'd be standing here right now. And you would smile. And that would be enough._ " Imploring blue eyes shining with tears look up at you. " _I don't pretend to know the challenges we're facing. I know there's no replacing what we've lost and you need time._ "

Gently he takes hold of your hands, engulfing them in his larger ones. It had been so long since you felt the warmth of them. How his heat radiates from every surface and flows through you. His callused thumb strokes your knuckles in such a loving way. " _But I'm not afraid. I know who I married. Just let me stay here by your side. And that would be enough._ "

Unable to control the sob that rips through you, Steve is the one to support you when you join him on the floor.

  
  
  
  
  


_If you see him in the street, walking by her side_

__

Talking by her side, have pity

He is trying to do the unimaginable

See them walking in the park, long after dark

Taking in the sights of the city

  


They are trying to do the unimaginable

  
  
  
  
  


_There are moments that the words don't reach_

__

There's a grace too powerful to name

__

We push away what we can never understand

__

We push away the unimaginable

__

They are standing in the garden

__

Standing there side by side

__

She takes his hand

__

" _It's quiet uptown._ " Your whisper seems so loud in the quietness of your backyard. Steve stares at you, surprised by your voice. When you meet his gaze a small smile ghosts across your face. Eyes tender with the love that still remained, that still endured after so much suffering.

  


_Forgiveness, can you imagine?_

__

Forgiveness, can you imagine?

__

Your fingers lace with his as Steve still stands there frozen. Once your palms touch his it brings him out of his comatose state. His mouth twitches then breaks out in a watery grin as he pulls you closer.

  


_If you see him in the street, walking by her side_

__

Talking by her side, have pity

__

Look around, look around

__

They are going through the unimaginable

__  


It wouldn't be easy, but you'd get through this. Together.


End file.
